"You have the right to remain silent. Please use it." Officer Torres then collapsed against a musty, green sofa and began examining the incision in his left arm. Blood seeped out of the wound, trickling down Wayne's arm as it stained his uniform.

With his Glock 17 drawn, Malcolm entered the room battle-ready, but swiftly put it away upon realizing Wayne had handled the situation. "Shit, looks like he nicked you good, huh?"

"Motherfucker, you don't get to talk unless I say so!" Malcolm responded with utter disdain and forced his boot into the back of Jordan's head. After knocking the junkie unconscious, Oscar finally returned with Sean Cao and Dr. Ramesh, an overweight, middle-aged, Indian-American man sporting a red Hawaiian shirt. It looked as if he were just about to take off on vacation only to find out his flight had been cancelled due to cannibals devouring the entire airport.

"She's in the kitchen," Malcolm directed the team, "I tried to stop most of the bleeding, but she's in real bad shape."

"I'll see what I can do for her, but without proper medical equipment I make no guarantees," Ramesh replied and rapidly went to work mending her wounds to the best of his abilities.

As the doctor tending to the girl, Malcolm, Oscar, Sean, and Officer Torres formed a small council in the living room in order to discuss what needed to be done with Jordan.

"The motherfucker almost killed Kara! Hell, she may as well already be dead! I say we shoot his ass dead right here! Right now!" Oscar boomed with a voice of authority.

"No, shut up. We're not killing him," Malcolm calmly replied.

"And why the hell not, Malcolm?! If Forty or Jace were still here, they'd have already offed this worthless sack of shit!" Oscar yelled.

"Jace got bit three days in and Forty got swarmed out on a run, I don't think they've got much of say in anything anymore," Malcolm responded, scratching the back of his neck, as he loomed over Jordan's unconscious body.

"Oh, fuck you, Malcolm! You didn't grow up with them like I did! They were like my goddamn brothers! You're just some selfish punk-ass bitch that strolled in from out of town! You're gonna get us all killed!"

"Hey, there's no need for th--" Sean attempted to get a word in.

"Me?! I'm gonna get you killed?! I ain't the fuckin' whiny, reckless hothead that throws a bitch-fit every two-goddamn-seconds of the day when thing don't play out for him! I honestly have no idea how Jasmine even puts up with you! Tell me, does she know her brother's a godda--" Malcolm hollered back, throwing his arms up into the air.

"Better stop talking right now!" Oscar threatened Malcolm, stepping in closer as part of some Darwinistic attempt to intimidate him with height and muscle.

Unfazed, Malcolm simply stood there silently as this giant peered down at him for an unreasonably long time.

"You should probably go, Oscar," Sean finally interjected.

Oscar suddenly glared at Sean before shifting over to Wayne, "I have an idea. Why don't we just let the fuckin' cop decide what to with Jordan? Hell, he's the closest thing we got to judge, jury, and executioner nowadays."

“I like that plan. That’s a good plan,” Jon agreed before turning to check his companion’s reaction. The young woman just shrugged at him and stared blankly at the gangrenous creatures below, her breathing still sharp from the adrenaline.

“Well I assume you’re cool with it then.” He turned back to Russell and retrieved his knife from his belt. “Alright, so let’s go on three. I think we can ignore those guys,” he gestured with the blade at the few remaining undead, “so long as we run fast enough. They’re usually pretty slow. Usually.” Russell nodded and after some shuffling the four of them stood on the edge of the roof, looking down at the not inconsiderable drop.

“R-right. So, uh. On three. One… two…-”

“I’m going now. Meet you there.” Roxanne hopped down from the ledge onto the grass, sticking the landing a few meters away from the shambling corpses, who now turned their attention to her. Standing, she clicked back the hammer and fired, the bullet shattering one of the creature’s skulls. She glared up at the men who still stood on the shingles and waved at them with something that Jon could only interpret as a smirk.

“...Three.” Jon hopped down and the other two followed suit. But as he hit the grass the boy felt stabbing pain shoot up his ankle and he collapsed with a sharp intake of air. He tried to lift himself to his feet, but stumbled, dropping to his knees mere feet from another approaching corpse. He stared into its gnashing teeth, the bits of flesh stuck between, the guttural sounds of hunger that escaped it’s throat. It reached its rotting hands towards Jon’s pale, terror stricken face and managed to grab a hold of his shirt before having its skull split in two with a fire-ax. Russell kicked the body aside and pulled the boy roughly to his feet.

“Uh, thanks,” Jon murmured, testing his ankle and finding himself able to stand despite the pain. “I owe you one.” He brushed himself off and grabbed his knife from where it had fallen to the ground.

“Hey nimrods, in case you didn’t notice we don’t have a lot of time here! C’mon!” The girl was almost halfway to the truck and Anthony was close behind.

“Hey! Wait a sec, will ya?!” Jon limped after her with Russell, only marginally faster than the undead that had started to be drawn out of the house by the commotion. Within thirty seconds they arrived at the truck, the step-siblings sliding into in the back as Russell sat behind the wheel with his friend next to him in the passenger’s. The truck roared to life, and there was a collective sigh of relief.

“...Well that could have gone better,” someone muttered from the backseat.

Simon gave a reassuring smile and said, "I'm sure they'll return soon, and I'm glad I could be of service with my supplies." Simon beamed towards the teenage boy using the inhaler. He scanned the room, taking in his surroundings before sitting down on the couch. The man adjusted his tie slightly, not that it helped much. What would once seem to be a sharp, nifty semi-formal outfit was now wrinkled and had small stains across it. Simon ran his fingers through his messy hair, sighing as he searched in his backpack. The Russian removed a package of string cheese and unwrapped it, peeling small lines of cheddar and munching on them.

"It is nice to meet you all." Simon said with a smile.

"So, Mrs. Emily, we may as well make small talk whilst we wait, yes?" Simon ate another string of cheese, and after finishing continued."I was an electrical engineer, before... well, you know.." Simon motioned with his head towards the window, obviously referring to the living dead outside.

Wayne was caught somewhat off guard by his sudden part in the argument, having simply watched the two men argue for a time. He was clutching the wound in his shoulder and wondering why it didn't hurt worse than it did. He was brought to when Malcolm glanced at him, and gave a bewildered look in response.

"Not a judge, never been on a jury, and I'd like to end my day without being an executioner if I could help it." The officer growled "But I guess the hammer falls to me to swing."

Like to swing a hammer right into the junkie's fucking skull. Abuse a woman like he abuses a needle, he deserves whatever he gets. Then again, I'm not keen on holding a man's life in my hands when more blood's outside of my body than in. Not thinking straight.

eh... Do I need to deal with this right now? Cop was a terrible fucking cover, Wayne.

"No one's killing the guy just like that. Not right away, anyway. Take him, throw him in a locked room with no windows, or the closest thing you have. Don't give him access to anything he can use to hurt himself. Or anyone else for that matter. I want to have a word with him when he's... In his right mind again."

So he can understand what I'm going to do to him before I do it.

"Alright? This is just temporary. I'll decide what to with him later, he's a secondary concern." Wayne nodded towards Sean "Hey. Check with the doc. See if there's anything we can do for the girl, if he's short on supplies I've got no problem going out and rounding up whatever he needs."

Wayne glanced between Oscar and Malcolm "We aren't going to have a problem, are we? I'd like to not deal with two attempted murders in one day."

"Alright? This is just temporary. I'll decide what to with him later, he's a secondary concern." Wayne nodded towards Sean "Hey. Check with the doc. See if there's anything we can do for the girl, if he's short on supplies I've got no problem going out and rounding up whatever he needs."

"On it," Sean responded, happy to get away from the arguing.

Wayne glanced between Oscar and Malcolm "We aren't going to have a problem, are we? I'd like to not deal with two attempted murders in one day."

"Whatever, ya'll just delayin' the inevitable. If it's not one of us that does him in, it'll just end up being one of them," Oscar warned before quickly making his exit slamming the front door on his way out.

Malcolm sighed and turned his attention back to Wayne, "All this arguing is probably givin' you a bad first impression of us, I bet. Me and Oscar... we're not really friends. I'm sure you picked up on that by now. His sister has it in her head that we get along just fine, but that-- that's far from the truth. Reality of the situation is Oscar blames me for everyone that's died. Man holds me responsible for death of every single one of his friends, niggas he grew up with, niggas I never cared about enough to get to know. I moved to this neighborhood almost a year ago. Probably shouldn't be tellin' a fed this, but seein' as how it's gonna be a while until law enforcement returns, I don't really care anymore. So, 'ere's a little confession, most of the niggas you see round 'ere, includin' Oscar, dealt drugs on the side. I ain't gonna lie either, I was involved too, but only cause strapped for cash. As soon as this the dead started spingin' back to life, me, Oscar, and some other boys forced everyone to get rid of their stashes. We needed everyone on their A-game if we were gon' get through this. However, now it seems like Jordan lied to us about his stash," Malcolm clenched the bridge of his nose, "and now me and you are put in the unfortunate position of figurin' out what we're gonna do with him. This fuckin' sucks..."

"Ramesh thinks Kara is gonna be okay," Sean informed as he returned from the kitchen, "Says he has everything he needs, so there's no need to make a run right now. We can't move out of this house though. Don't want risk reopening her wounds, and we definitely don't want to broadcast to the whole neighborhood what Jordan did her right now. Otherwise, we might have lynch mob on our hands. So Malcolm, what do you propose we do?"

"We carry Jordan to the barbershop next door," Malcolm swiftly answers as if he had already thought everything out before Sean even entered. "It's already been cleared out so there's no reason for anyone to go in there. Once inside, we close the shutters so the neighborhood doesn't know what we're up to, then we wait for Jordan to regain his senses, and then I guess we have a little chat with him."

Malcolm stared blankly at Sean for a moment, before finally answering, "Like I said, it's just gonna be little chat, so if you ain't the social type, Sean, feel free to step out of the room."

Sean doesn't say anything; instead, he just looks concerned and vaguely confused as to how he got here. Had the world not ended three weeks ago, he would have been slicing sushi at his uncle's seafood restaurant, shooting hoops with Jamal, or hitting on college girls way out of his league, but instead he finds himself surrounded by cops, gangsters, and the living dead.

Wayne stayed quiet throughout Malcolm's confession, letting the man finish. "Look, man. Whatever you did before, sold drugs, killed people," served time, "whatever. That's not what's important right now. Shits gone to hell, and people are going to have to work together. People like me, you, Oscar, everyone. It's us against some hardcore end of the world shit right now, I think. And if a cop and a drug dealer can come together, I think you should be able to make good with just about anyone. That includes Oscar."

Wayne sighed and moved his hand from his cut. The bleeding had stopped for the moment, though he was pretty sure that was only because the cloth from his undershirt had padded itself into the wound. That would be uncomfortable later, for sure.

Sean returned, explaining the girl was going to be okay. Sean seemed against hurting the junkie that was in custody. Torres sighed as he helped lift Jordan with his good arm, and begin carrying him to the barber shop.

"Sean Cao, you said your name was?" Wayne started "You seem like one of the good ones."

"I'll meet you guys in the barbershop. I've got to get some things," Malcolm informs the two and briskly makes his way out of the house.

"Sean Cao, you said your name was?" Wayne started, "You seem like one of the good ones."

Pulling Jordan's free arm around his shoulder, Sean slowly began walking with Wayne towards the front door and replied, "Yeah, I guess you could say that. All the violence going on outside, I think it's just now starting to get to me, you know? It's really messing with my head. Can't stop thinking about my dad. After 'Nam he was pretty fucked up for a very long time. He used to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Mom always managed to calm him down, but the things he'd scream about... just scared the shit out of me as a kid. I don't know, man, just a little afraid of what all this is gonna do to my psyche," Sean paused for a moment before asking, "Hey, you're a cop. Did you ever have to... you know... kill someone? I, uh, hope you don't mind me asking..."

"You mean before all this? Uh, yeah. Yeah, once. On the job. Took my work too serious, got myself in a lot of trouble, but I guess you could say it made me the man I am today."

"Guy must've been a real piece of shit, I take it?" Sean asked, attempting to glance around Jordan's bobbing head.

"Yeah, yeah something like that. You gotta play by the rules, or you end up crossing paths with folks like me, and no one wants that." Wayne replied.

"Me too. You seem concerned about all this. Just want to let you know, you ever need someone to talk to or watch your back, you can do a hell of a lot worse than me. People gotta watch out for each other, right?"

"I appreciate that. I really do... and I'll, uh, be around if you need me," Sean replied as he lightly kicked open the front door with his boot. After cautiously carrying the man down the steps, Sean figured now was a good a time as any to share his thoughts, "It's weird... seeing my mom like that back that house. She was just gone by the time me and Jamal got there, and God knows where my dad was. Hope he made it... somehow. Anyways, seeing her lying there like that... cold... motionless... it's just weird. Figured I be more sad right about now, but, honestly, I just feel numb... like it didn't even happen. Growing up I never really understood death... understand even less so nowadays..."

Officer Torres grunted a bit under the weight of the man they carried. "... I'm sorry you had to see that man, I wish I could say more. I've still got family out there myself. A sister. And if I found her like that... I..." Wayne grew quiet for a moment, "You're a strong guy. I don't know how I'd take it. You're the kind of people folks need around in times like this. Reliable."

"I try to be useful," Sean sighed, "I just wanna go back to living in a world that makes sense, man."

Wayne nodded sympathetically and spent the remainder of the walk in contemplative silence.

After propping Jordan up in a barber chair, Sean and Wayne backed away as Malcolm returned with length of fisherman's rope, duct tape, and a red toolbox. "Sean, close the shutters and hit the lights," Malcolm calmly ordered, draping the rope over and around the chair. After tightly securing Jordan to the chair, Malcolm cut the zip tie around the junkie's wrists, pulled out a length of duct tape with his teeth, and quickly wrapped both of Jordan's arms around the arm rests.

Meanwhile, Sean pulled down the steel shutters and flicked the light switch on. The lighting in the room was dim with one of bulbs blinking sporadically. Turning back to Malcolm and Officer Torres, Sean still found himself trying to piece his thoughts together.

Is this seriously happening right now?

"That should hold him," Malcolm said, glancing over at Wayne. "Do me a favor and wake him up if you can."

"I was an electrical engineer, before... well, you know.." Simon motioned with his head towards the window, obviously referring to the living dead outside. "How's about you?"

"X-ray technician over at Children's Hospital. Anthony managed to get out of there before things got too hectic. The plan was to pick up the kids and go to his cousin's house on the west side of the city, but we kept getting roadblocked at every turn. Ended up stopping by here to make sure Michael and Murphy's father was okay. Knowing there was no way in hell we were going to make it over the Causeway, we decided to stay here until military rolled through... and I guess we're still waiting on them," Emily sighed.

"Hey, let me get you something to eat," Emily smiled and made her way into the kitchen.

Russell MacReady/Anthony HoltRussell's Apartment - 10th Floor

Aside from some slight bickering between Roxy and Jon, the ride back wasn't particularly chatty. Upon making it home, Russell noticed the front entrance was blocked by a small swarm of the dead. Silently creeping out the car, Russell led the group around the building, entering through a side door, and quickly rushed upstairs. Upon making it inside, Russell was warmly greeted by the smiling faces of his children.

"Dad, you made it!" Michael leaped off the couch excitedly.

Meanwhile, Murphy rushed towards her father and near about knocked him off balance as she hugged him.

Roughly brushing against Russell's shoulder, Emily pulled Anthony into a loving embrace and greeted him with a kiss, "I'm so happy you're okay! Wait, you are okay, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're all okay, honey. S'good to see you too," Anthony replied with a voice of relief and went in for another kiss as Russell and awkwardly looked on.

Almost unexpectedly, Emily backed away, turned her attention to Russell, and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek, "Thank you for getting him home okay,"

"Uh... no problem," Russell replied, unsure of how to act in the situation. His attention shifted towards a strange emerging from the kitchen, "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Simon," Murphy answered, "He showed up outside with a bunch of those things chasing him, so we yelled at him from the balcony to get inside. Oh, he brought medicine! Inhalers for Michael! He's an cool guy, dad, I think you'll get alo--" Murphy noticed two people emerge from the hallway, "Who the hell are they?"

"Oh, that's, uh, Roxy and Jon. Siblings, I believe. They've been surviving out on their own since all this started. We kinda led the dead back to their house, so invited them to stay with us. Might not have made it back alive without them either," Russell stated, glancing at the two.

After setting their prisoner down on the chair, Wayne stretched his shoulder, testing how far he could comfortable move it with his fresh wound. He was lucky as hell a wound that deep stopped bleeding to begin with, and he was well aware that it could start again at any time.

"Damn," the officer mumbled "I left my guns and my baton at that trash heap of a house. Sean, could you go grab them for me? I don't exactly like the idea of someone picking them up, and that handgun was from you, I'd like to not lose it." Torres hoped that would be convincing enough to get Sean out of the room for a bit.

"Do me a favor and wake him up if you can."

Wayne nodded "Right, yeah." before poking Jordan in the face testingly "Heeey, buddy, you in there?"

...

Torres patiently nudged the prisoner "Breakfast time, sunshine."

.....

Wayne gave the man a proper shake "C'mon damnit, don't piss me off."

........

The cop took a long moment and sighed, looking like he had given up before abruptly yelling in the captive man's ear "WOAH!"

Simon smiled warmly to greet the newcomers in the doorway and waved with one hand to them. "Hallo!" he called as he waved. The Russian adjusted his tie again slightly to appear at least somewhat collected. After doing so, the man motioned to his backpack, which was now leaning against the couch in the corner of the room.

"I have brought many foods and medications. Feel free to use some if needed!" Simon's accent shone through, as if a siren blaring out the man's nationality. Simon approached the man Michael had referred to as dad and offered his hand, as if to shake.

"I am Simon Petrikov. It is very nice to meet all of you."

"Wow, that's some accent!" Russell smiled and politely shook the man's hand, "Russian, I take it? Just how in the hell did you end up in this godforsaken place?"

Simon smiled and chuckled lightly. "I moved to the United States as a child, I was working in Shreveport before and wander my way down here."

"Shreveport, you say? My uncle lived in Shreveport..." Russell glanced over at the basket full of medicine, "I gotta say, I appreciate you sharing your supplies with us like that. Michael's asthma attacks can get pretty bad, so I'm really happy you showed up when you did."

"Always glad to help." Simon turned his attention to the two in the back.

“Christ above Jon,” Roxy murmured with a shake of her head. “We’re not related by the way. We’re really, really not.”

“Right. Step-siblings. She stresses that a lot. Nice place you got here though. Quite… cozy?”

“What he means to say is that you can’t breathe in here. I’ll be out in the hall.” The young woman said as she turned to go, trying to escape a conversation that would inevitably become awkward.

"Yeah, I suppose it is pretty cramped in here," Russell interjects. "I'll be willing to clear out the room across the hall if you'll be willing to help."

“...Gladly” Roxy responded after a brief pause, grabbing the hatchet that dangled from Jon’s backpack and motioning towards the door, glad to have an excuse to get out. She really didn’t want to introduce herself to half a dozen people she didn’t intend to know for longer than she deemed absolutely necessary. It had been a long enough day.

As the door shut behind the two, Jon sighed and leaned against a wall. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s a little... on edge. Understandably so, I guess, yet- ”“Greetings.” A rather formally dressed man called out in a manner that almost took the young man aback with it’s jovality. The man's attitude and clothes seemed out of place in a apocalyptic scenario such as the the one Jon found himself in, but then again, he was pretty out of place himself.

"ARGH! FUCK!" Jordan jolted awake at the sound of the officer's howl. "Yo, what the fuck is your problem?! Man, I oughtta beat yo-- hey, what the fuck?!" Jordan notices his restraints. "Yo, why are my arms tied?! What the fuck is going on?!"

"Yo, someone's heading this way!" A guard shouted from atop the semi-truck blockade on the east-side of the community.

"No shit? Who is it?" Oscar asked out of genuine curiosity as he began clambering up the side of the semi.

"Uh, not sure... hang on a second... looks like there's three of them now," the guard attempted to focus his binoculars to get a better look. "Some white dude in a brown jacket with a thick beard, nigga in a blue coat, and, uh, is that guy carrying a fuckin' sword? This guy a fuckin' gladiator or something?" The guard's attention shifted back to the man in the blue coat, "Actually, the guy in the blue coat kinda looks like--"

"Elijah! Holy shit, nigga! Get over here!" Oscar shouted out to the man, excited to see his friend alive and well.

"Aw, shit! Oscar! My man!" Elijah hollered back as he broke into a jog. "Yo, get that gate open before my new homies get chomped out here."

"Yeah, no problem," Oscar hopped off the semi-truck as the guard shifted the gear into reverse in order to create a small opening.

The group quickly slid through the narrow opening as Oscar waited on the other side. Shaking hands with his old pal, Oscar said, "S'good to see ya, man. Been thinkin' you might've gotten a little too frisky with one of them dead bitches out there, naw mean?"

"Shit, nigga, as if I'd let one of those creeps get that close! Fuck, I figured those lurkers made a buffet out of you," Elijah joked back.

"Well, they certainly wish they could. They missin' out on a whole lotta man-meat right here," Oscar cracked up at the thought. "Anyways, Eli, who these two you got with ya?"

"Homie in brown leather is Thomas. Homie with the sword is Dmitri. Haven't really chatted with him too much on the account that we've been runnin' our asses off for last few hours simply tryin' to get here, but he's seems like the alright sort," Elijah explained. "Yo, but get this! Ol' Tommy Boy here knows how fly planes!"

"Good to know," Oscar responded before walking up to greet the to strangers. "Hi, name's Oscar. Great to meet ya. Why don't ya'll tell me a bit about ya'll selves and then we can get you two acquainted with a room to sleep in?

"Nice to see so many friendly faces in these dark times." Simon shook the man's hand, before turning his attention to the plan of clearing another apartment.

"If we plan to clear another home, we will have to be quite careful. It would be much better if we led the Dead into the larger hallways before handling them, or leading them away, or whatever you all wish to do. I can speak from experience, coming across one in a tight corridor is not very enjoyable.

Simon took one step toward the window, his hands clasped together behind his back. "We should, however, most likely not get comfortable. When I was in Shreveport, I saw giant hordes of the Dead. It seems they are attracted to sound, and because they make sound, they begin to group. It is only a matter of time before larger masses begin to invade this area of the city.

Simon paused. "I don't mean to take command of the situation at all, but I would recommend we all leave in the next couple of days." Simon's voice was punctuated, and it was obvious the Russian was simply making a kind-hearted suggestion.

"At least you have your son and these tattoos as reminders. Some people are left with nothing at all." Trina responded kindly.

Jasmine looked across the dining table, staring at both of their sons, and smiled at the sight of the two boys getting along. Thinking about how great of a son Calvin has been to her, she felt deep sense of motherly pride mixed with the sorrow of losing her first love.

"On the bright side, at least Sonny didn't have to see what the world has come to today... however long this hell may last."

"Yeah," Jasmine grinned, using a nearby rag to wipe away a couple of tears, "but Sonny was an always optimist. Even when the doctor told him he had at least three months left to live, Sonny just chuckled and said word-for-word, 'Pssh, I bet I can top that, no sweat. We'll be seein' ya again six months from now, Doc. You just wait and see.' Heh, I'm glad he wasn't lying about that. Hell, I think the doctor even forked him over fifty dollars for actually making it. I guess, the name Sonny really fit him in the end. You know, sunny side up and all that."

"Some look like people until you get real close." Cole said, referring to the walking corpses outside, "Others look like demons."

"What?!" Calvin smiled in skeptical disbelief. "No way! Like red with horns and a tail?! Did they have pitchforks too?!"

Dimitri took in his surroundings as himself and his two current comrades entered through blockade into the walled off area. Not a corpse in sight. Just the way Dimitri liked it.

His eyes darted back in forth between Elijah and the other man--Oscar--talking before he turned to them and said, "Hi, name's Oscar. Great to meet ya. Why don't ya'll tell me a bit about ya'll selves and then we can get you two acquainted with a room to sleep in?"

He stuck his hand out and tried his best to smile, but it probably only came off as menacing. "Name's Dimitri. Been on my own since last week."

He wasn't much for saying more than what needed to be said. However, he did wonder if there were some type of scavenging groups that he could join. If there was one thing Dimitri did not want to do, it was to sit around and do nothing while more and more of those dead fucks took loved ones from other people. He supposed he would find out later. His head was still throbbing.Trina & Cole Bohorquez

Cole shook his head at the other boy. "Not those kind of demons. More like the ones that possess people and make 'em go crazy." Calvin's comments about red devils almost made Cole laugh at how ridiculous of an idea that is. He imagined the world outside as a cartoon, with little Pain and Panic's running around tormenting everone. He had just seen Disney's Hercules before all this began.

"If you ever see one, you'll know what I am talking about. You can see their bones and their mouths are filled with blood," Cole added.

Meanwhile, Trina was listening to Jasmine intently. She smiled as the other woman spoke of lost love with adoration and respect. At her comment on his optimism, Trina couldn't help but remark, "Lord knows we need more optimism with how things are now. I only hope this all blows over soon. I'd hate for my son or your son to grow up in this kind of world."

Jon cautiously shook the man’s hand with eyebrows raised, shooting a quick inquisitive glance at Murphy. She shrugged back at him.

"If we plan to clear another home, we will have to be quite careful. It would be much better if we led the Dead into the larger hallways before handling them, or leading them away, or whatever you all wish to do. I can speak from experience, coming across one in a tight corridor is not very enjoyable.”

“Heh, well a little late for that pal,” he gestured vaguely towards the door Roxy and Russell had just vanished through, “but you don’t need to worry. Roxy knows how to handle herself, and whatshisface, Russell, seems competent enough. They’ll have a place cleared out in no time.”

Jon leaned back against the wall again, crossing his arms as the man turned towards the window. He almost smirked as he listened to Simon’s story. Of course he’d seen the hordes. But escape was just as impossible as staying.

"I don't mean to take command of the situation at all, but I would recommend we all leave in the next couple of days."

“Hm. I see what you mean. But, here’s the thing. No offense to you fine folk and certainly not to you Murphy, but I doubt Roxy would be exceptionally enthused about your use of the word ‘we’ in that sentence.” He rubbed the back of his neck and scrunched his eyebrows contemplatively. “Meaning, essentially, regardless of what you intend to do my friend, I doubt we’ll be sticking around for long. In any sense of the word.” Jon paused for a moment. “...Unless of course either of you have something to say about that,” he added, glancing quietly between the young woman and the foreign man with an inscrutable expression.Thomas Rynning

"For real, nigga. We gots ourselves a regular Top Gun right here."

Thomas gave a blank stare and said nothing. Whether or not he could fly a plane didn’t mean jack shit if there wasn’t a plane to fly anymore. And he seriously doubted there would be a plane to fly in this part of town.

"Hi, name's Oscar. Great to meet ya. Why don't ya'll tell me a bit about ya'll selves and then we can get you two acquainted with a room to sleep in?”

His eyes narrowed as he sized up the excessively friendly man. Thomas’ gaze was cold, stoic. He drummed his fingers on the strap of his rifle that hung on his shoulder, glancing around briefly. After an agonizing moment his expression softened and he offered the stranger his hand, muttering a few short words of introduction. “Thomas. It’s a pleasure. You got a plane by any chance?”

Wayne looked at his wound when Jordan inquired about it "Got cut. What's it look like happened? Look, my name is Officer Torres. We're gonna have a chat."

"Uh... uh, okay, what about?"

"Well, you're going to want to sit down for this." Wayne's face practically split in half at his own joke, "This cut? Got it in a knife fight from a submarine captain. You know what I'm saying to you?"

"Y-you were in the navy or something?" Jordan replied, with Malcolm groaning in the background.

Wayne's humor faded from his face "Try 'or something.' Lemme spell it out for you. I got cut trying to apprehend a suspect for stabbing a lovely young lady named uh... fuck..." Wayne snapped his fingers looking for the name. "Katy. Karen. Kate. Kara?"

"W-what? I-I-I fuckin' stabbed her?! No, no, no! It was one of those things! I know it was!"

"She was tied to a fuckin' chair, man!" Malcolm chimes in. "What the fuck was that about?"

"I... she... we were... I-I don't know..."

"Oh, you're following along. Alright, cool, that makes my job easier." Wayne leaned forward, looking into the druggie's fearful eyes "I've been out there running from those things for weeks, and I've never seen one put a fucking knife in someone. That means you did. You stuck your girl, then you tried to stick me and I had to lay your ass out. Do you realize what you did?"

"I-Is she dead?!" Jordan looked up at the officer, tears streaming down his cheeks, understanding exactly how bad he fucked up.

Wayne looked at Malcolm then at Jordan. The girl hadn't looked good, but it seemed like the doctor had it under control. As far as Torres knew, the girl would be fine. "It doesn't look to good. Do you know what this is?" Wayne held up his fingers pinched together. "This is how close you are to a murder charge, and let's not even talk about the drug use and armed assault of an officer."

Wayne sighed "And shit as it is right now, no judges or courts around for days, do you what I'm going to have to do, man? There's not gonna be prison, or fines, or any of that shit. People are gonna want me to drag you out back, and put a bullet in you. And let me tell you something. They ain't gonna bury you with your girlfriend."

Malcolm snaps his fingers, "Hey, look at me! What were you and Kara doing last night? Why the fuck would you think she was one of those things?!"

Wayne leaned in uncomfortably close to Jordan "A big ol' teddy bear tells me it's cause you were on a hell of a cocktail of drugs. That true, Jordan?"

Sean slipped in quietly, carrying Wayne's things. The officer ambled over and retrieved his baton and gun, sliding them to their rightful places on his belt before resting his shotgun against the wall.

"It was the fuckin' runs, man! All those supply runs you and Oscar had me doing! You don't know how fucked up it is out there! How goddamn traumatizing this shit is! I saw my goddamn cousin out there walking around as one of those freaks! Fuckin' parents devourin' their own kids! I saw a little girl out there sinking her teeth into a fuckin' dog! World's fuckin' falling apart! I just wanted to feel good again, man! It was supposed to a be fuckin' party... I didn't tie her up to fuckin' hurt her! Kara was just kinky like that, okay! We were just tryin' to have a good time, and then... and then... and then I started seein' those things again! I thought she was one of 'em!"

"Ask him where he got the drugs," Malcolm asked, knowing full-well that he couldn't have gotten it from anyone on the Block.

Wayne obliged "You heard him, where'd you get the drugs, Jordan? Malcolm tells me everyone got rid of theirs. Where'd the stuff come from?" Wayne came closer to Jordan "You can't make this shit, you don't look like you could operate a dvd player. Where'd ya get it from? Is this from someone? Do you have a fucking dealer in the apocalypse or are you the luckiest tweaker in the city and just found the shit? Which I doubt."

"I got 'em from some fuckin' tall-ass white dude out near that Scarface mansion! Motherfuckers had all sorts of drugs there! Fuckin' place was loaded with narcotics! An' everyone there was just poppin' pills, smoking weed, and shootin' up all sorts of shit. Malcolm, you know the place I'm talkin about, right?!"

"Yeah, I know. Who was the guy?"

"I dunno, sounded like a fake name! Asshole called himself Stryker!"

Wayne looked nonplussed, furrowing his brow "What the fuck kind of name is Stryker?

"Understandable. Not everyone would wish to work in such a large group, especially in dire times like this. I was simply throwing out my suggestion for anyone who may be willing to take me up on it." Simon sat back onto the couch, grabbing his bag and unzipping it. He pulled out a small, packaged brownie treat with colorful sprinkles and began unwrapping it as he spoke."If and when you and your counterpart do find it time to high-tail it away from here, I will be more than willing to send you off with some food and medicines for the road."